
The Sawing Sleeper
Snores like a chainsaw. Swings like he's clearing dream timber.
Harsh, sawing, rhythmic, and suspiciously industrious. His snore is the unmistakable soundtrack of somebody cutting through a forest, a bunk bed, or the last remaining nerve of everyone else in the house.
Lumberjack fights like he is halfway through a workday he never woke up for. The saw's blunt handle pokes. Its broad flat side swats. His heavy boots stomp forward as the cross saw becomes a ridiculous sleepwalking plough. Every strike feels practical, drowsy, and completely based on the false assumption that his opponent is made of timber.
SIGNATURE MOVE: SAWDUST STORM
Lumberjack grips the oversized cross saw in both hands and settles into a sleepy back-and-forth sawing rhythm. The rhythm accelerates. The saw catches his entire body and drags him into a wild circular spin, whipping wood chips, beard crumbs, and pajama lint through the air like a human sawmill with no foreman and no insurance.
"Timber... probably."
Choose Lumberjack if...
Your snore has ever been described using power tools, forestry language, or a deeply tired sigh from the next room.